


Pachelbel's Canon in D

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: One Shot, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-25
Updated: 2007-07-25
Packaged: 2019-01-19 14:56:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12412494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: Just a short Hr/R fic. Written about a year or two ago.





	Pachelbel's Canon in D

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

**Disclaimer:** I don’t own any of this, unfortunately. I wish I did though. I think I’d be quite rich…

**Author’s Notes:** I wrote this a few years ago. It was supposed to go up on Fiction Alley but somehow it got all messed up and showed up with little symbols for spaces. Now it’s finally fixed and ready to go. I plan on writing more one-shots. Don’t expect anything with many chapters from me… I always lose interest way too quickly. (:

 

A piano sat silently in the room. For once, it contributed no sound at all. The only noise was Ron’s shaky breathing as he stood in the doorway, staring at the unmoving keys. Only a day ago they were still moving under the gentle touch of Hermione’s graceful hands. A feeble smile appeared on his thin lips as he pictured her sitting at the piano, playing Pachelbel’s Canon. He had never realized how much he enjoyed hearing it until he found out he would not be hearing it ever again. At least, not in this house, on this piano, with Hermione sitting on the wooden bench, her fingers ‘tickling the ivories’. He could still hear the single chords in the beginning, the growing tension and the release. Ron never completely understood the piano, but when he heard this piece of extraordinary music, he felt as though he could understand everything.

But he would never hear that wonderful music again.

You would think after what happened that Ron would never look at the damned piano again. It was the piano that caused the deaths. But Ron, instead, could do nothing but stare at it.

* * *

 

The day began as brightly and happily as any winter day. It had snowed the night before and Ron awoke to the sound of Elizabeth’s happy exclamations. It was the first snow of the year and Lizzie was ready to tell the world. She ran into her parent’s room and jumped on the bed, landing on Ron’s stomach. Maybe not the best wake up call in the morning, but Ron had always secretly enjoyed it, even if recently Lizzie had been coming drastically close to his nether regions. 

Lizzie lay stomach to stomach with her father, grinning so widely that her freckled face was very close to being comical. Her eyes sparkled with the joy that only young children can feel. Ron stared at his daughter a moment before slowly lifting his arms and tickling her sides. She shrieked and giggled, rolling off onto the pillow next to Ron. He grinned and laughed to, sitting up and keeping his hands tickling her. She kept shrieking and giggled, trying to push her father’s big hands away. 

“Stop!” she shrieked, a wide smile still on her face. 

“Breakfast, Lizzie!” Hermione called from downstairs. Ron pulled his hands away, throwing back his covers and standing up. Lizzie stood up too, her hands on her hips.

“I’ll race you down,” Ron said, looking at his daughter.

“I’ll beat you!” Lizzie ran and jumped off the bed, flying through the door and carefully stepping down the wooden stairs. She’d fallen down them enough times to know not to run down them with socks on.

Ron took a few big steps to the stairs and walked down them slowly, taking one step at a time. He could never win against his daughter. 

“Come on, Lizzie. You’ve a piano lesson in a few hours and you must practice before we go. You haven’t practiced all week!” Hermione scolded.

“I beat Daddy!” Lizzie exclaimed, jumping up at down as she held onto the edge of the table.

“Wow! You did?” Hermione smiled at her daughter. Even if Elizabeth did this nearly every day, it still brought a smile to Hermione’s face. 

“Yeah! I did! He’s still coming—”

“Nope! I’m here!” Ron took a step and stood next to Lizzie, placing his hand on her head. 

“But I still beat you!” Lizzie looked up at Ron, her brow furrowing in a menacing way.

Ron took his hand away, pretending to be scared. “Oh yes, of course you did!”

Lizzie giggled and pulled out her chair and climbed into it. She watched her mother carefully as she placed a plate with a piece of buttered toast and a little bit of scrambled egg on the table. Grabbing her fork, she clumsily scooped up some egg and put it in her mouth.

“Siddown!” she almost yelled, pointing to Ron.

“Okay, okay!” Ron pulled out his chair and sat down. But as soon as he did, a cry sounded from upstairs. His head dropped a little.

Hermione glanced over from her position at the counter where she was pouring some juice for Ron, herself, and Lizzie. She looked at Ron apologetically. 

“Would you…?”

Ron smiled slightly and nodded. “Of course.”

Pushing his chair back and sliding out, he walked back upstairs. Instead of turning right to go to his room, however, he went straight, ending up in a small nursery. The walls were light green with little pink flowers as a border near the ceiling. A white wooden crib stood against the inside wall and a small dollhouse was in the corner, a doll lay abandoned on the floor, most likely from when Elizabeth had been playing last night. 

Ron walked towards the crib and looked inside.

His youngest daughter stared up at him, her eyes wide and tears streaking her face. Ron smiled at the pathetic mess. “Little Maggie, let’s go downstairs and get some food.” 

She wriggled as Ron picked her out of the crib, but soon calmed down as Ron rubbed her little back.

“We’re gonna need a bottle for this little tyke,” he called down the stairs to Hermione.

“Okay!” Hermione called back.

Back in the kitchen, Ron found a glass of juice where he normally sat as well as a plate of toast and eggs. A bottle stood next to his glass. Hermione had begun eating and was currently trying to get Elizabeth to eat instead of dropping her eggs on the floor. 

Ron pulled the small highchair over as he made his way to the seat, setting Margaret into the chair and grabbing the bottle, holding it towards her mouth. The little girl wrapped her chubby fingers around the bottle as Ron carefully set the end of it on the table of the highchair. Maggie began to drink noisily.

He scooped his eggs onto his fork, tuning into the conversation Lizzie and Hermione were having.

“Are you almost done eating?”

Lizzie put her fork down. “Yes. Done.”

“Go practice piano, love.”

“But mummy, I don’t want to.” Lizzie pouted, her shoulders drooping.

“If you practice now, you can go play outside a little bit before your lesson,” Hermione bribed, tilting her head to the side slightly.

This made Lizzie happy. “Okay!” She jumped out of her seat and skipped into the living room, pushing in the piano bench and climbing onto it. She pulled her music off the top of the piano and put her scales out in front of her.

Ron looked up at Hermione, a look of dread on his face as Lizzie began to play her cluster scales.

Hermione giggled. “It’s not that bad, just try not to concentrate on it.”

“For you it’s not so bad. You had to do it too. I’ve never heard such weird sounding scales before.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and took a bite of her toast.

“Outside!” Lizzie cried, running out of the living room.

“Yes, dear,” Hermione said quietly, striding to the cupboard to get out Lizzie’s coat, hat, mittens, and scarf. “I’ll go outside with her if you can sit in here with Maggie and burp her…” 

“Okay, yes, I can do that.” Ron nodded, pulling Maggie out of the highchair and setting the bottle down next to the sink.

“Here Lizzie, gloves and scarf first.”

Lizzie pulled on her mittens as Hermione tied her light blue scarf around her small neck. 

“Ready!” Lizzie cried. She began to skip away. Hermione wrapped her arms around the little girl’s waist, pulling her back.

“Not yet, missy.” Hermione held out Elizabeth’s coat as Lizzie slipped her arms into it and turned around so Hermione could zipper it up. 

“Where are her snow pants?” Ron asked, patting Maggie on the back. 

Hermione groaned. “Upstairs in the attic still.”

“Hmm,” Ron thought. “Well, you could just let her out in those clothes and have her change when she comes back in.”

Hermione nodded. “We can get out the snow pants later. Alright then, little girl, put on your hat while Mummy puts on her stuff.”

Lizzie nodded and grabbed her hat from Hermione, pulling it on over her ears. “READY!” She yelled. 

“Shh, honey, not so loud, you’ll scare Maggie.”

Lizzie looked horrified and clapped a mitten clad hand to her mouth. “Oops,” she whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Ron smiled a little. “It’s alright, love.”

Soon enough Lizzie and Hermione were outside playing in the snow. Ron watched them from the back door, smiling to himself as he watched both girls skip around like little kids. 

About a half an hour later, Hermione and Lizzie clambered in the house, Hermione calling out, “Take off your boots and set them on the rug!” to Lizzie.

Elizabeth plopped down inside and pulled off her boots, putting them down on the carpet. She stood up quickly and looked at her mother expectantly.

“Okay, in the laundry room. Take off your wet clothes and mittens, hat, and coat and go right upstairs.”

“Yes mum.” Lizzie scuttled into the laundry room and pulled off her socks and trousers, her coat, mittens, and hat. She scurried back out into the kitchen and towards the stairs, saying loudly, “Burrr! It’s cold!!” 

Ron laughed as she ran past him with only her ivory colored turtle-neck on. He was coming downstairs from putting Maggie back into her crib to sleep.

Hermione’s cheeks were bright red from the cold. Ron walked over to her, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her on the forehead. 

Hermione smiled and gave him a quick hug before rushing past him and into the laundry room where she found Lizzie’s things spread out on the floor. She walked out of the laundry room when Lizzie ran past her and down the stairs in a pair of green corduroy trousers and her ivory coloured socks. 

“Mummy, is it time to go now?” 

“Yes, it is. Go get your books and put them in your bag and put on your other coat.”

Elizabeth ran into the living room, gathering her things.

Ron walked towards Hermione again, tucking a strand of hair behind her ears.

“Be careful on your way to the lesson, love.” He smiled slightly. He bent forward a bit and kissed her lightly on the lips. 

“I love you.” He said. 

Hermione smiled and kissed him on the cheek. “Love you too, Ronald.”

After their little ‘moment’, Elizabeth ran in and wrapped her arms around Ron’s legs. “Bye daddy! Love you!” 

“Love you too,” he said, smiling. He bent over and kissed her on the forehead. 

Hermione took Elizabeth’s hand and led her out the door. “Goodbye, Ron!”

“Bye! Have a good lesson!” And the door shut. 

Ron moved around the kitchen, telling the dishes to clean themselves with his right hand and moving the clean dishes into the cabinets with his left. 

Then another cry broke out. It shattered Ron’s concentration, causing the dish he was leading to fall to the floor with a crash.

“Shit…” he murmured, grimacing. Quickly he repaired the dish before thrusting his wand in his pocket and dashing upstairs. 

He picked up his little girl in his arms and kissed her on the forehead. “You can’t be hungry again!”

Ron tickled Maggie on the stomach and she giggled, reaching for his hands. Ron smiled to himself. Suddenly, Maggie was quiet. Ron gently stroked her chubby, soft cheek. The smile lingered on his lips.

The phone rang, andRon’s brow furrowed then straightened out. “Alright, off to the phone.” 

He held Maggie up a bit in one arm and took the few strides to the phone in the hallway. Picking it up, he held it to his ear. 

“Hello?” He’d gotten much better at the telephone since the first time when he’d called Harry.

“Yes, is this Mr. Weasley?” 

“Umm, yes, who’s this?”

“This is Officer Higgins. Your wife and daughter have been in a car accident, they are in the hospital right now… It might be best if you come as quickly as possible.”

“Ye-yes, sir.” Ron numbly hung up the phone. He looked at Maggie. She looked at him curiously. 

He walked numbly across the hall and sat down on the corner of the bed in his room, staring at the wooden floor. 

Hospital. Hermione. Lizzie. In the hospital.

Ron stood up quickly, disturbing Maggie. She began to cry again. Quickly he stepped down the stairs, almost slipping. He slipped into his shoes and quickly put Maggie’s coat on. He made sure she would be warm enough. He totally forgot about his own coat. He ran outside. How was he going to get to the hospital? The Knight Bus. He grabbed his wand, sparks flying. Then a loud popping sound sounded. 

“Where too?” the greeter asked. 

“The Muggle hospital, please.”

“Right away, sir.”

“Please, I have to get there as quickly as possible.”

“Yes, sir.”

And with that the bus was off and in a matter of fifteen minutes, Ron was standing outside the hospital with his daughter in his arms. 

“A Mrs. Hermione Weasley, please, and Elizabeth Weasley.” The secretary looked through the records on the computer. 

“Room 103 to your left, Mr…”

“Weasley. Thanks.” 

Ron almost ran down the hall, searching for Room 103. There was a group of doctors gathered around the door. As Ron came closer they all looked up, an apologetic look on their faces. 

“Umm, Mrs. Weasley, is she—”

One of the doctors cleared his throat. “Uh, Mr. Weasley I presume? Yes… Come over here with me, please.”

Ron followed the doctor slowly.

“I’m afraid your wife and daughter have passed away. Apparently they were crossing an intersection slowly when a double-decker couldn’t stop. It slid towards them on the snow.”

Ron looked at the man, blinking. He almost dropped Maggie. A cold feeling made its way down his spine and throughout his body. He stood there numbly, staring at the man. 

He cleared his throat again. “Uh, yes… I’m sorry.” He reached out and patted Ron on the shoulder before he began to walk back to the group.

“Ex-excuse me,” Ron said, his voice breaking, tears threatening to break through the barrier. “May I… May I see them?”

The doctor began, “I’m sorry sir, I don’t think—”

Ron cut him off. “Please… I really need to see her.”

The doctor sighed and nodded.

Ron walked to the door, his legs feeling like jelly. He walked into the warm room, seeing his daughter and wife lying on separate beds.

He walked towards Hermione, sitting gently next to her. 

Her face was scratched and her left eye was surrounded by a bruise. The hair near her scalp was crusted with blood. 

Maggie began to cry. That’s when Ron couldn’t take anymore. Tears began to pour down his cheeks. His lower lip trembled horribly. Maggie buried her face into Ron’s shirt. He couldn’t stand to look at Hermione any longer. He glanced down at her closed eyes and leaned over, kissing her lightly on the forehead and mouth, for the last time.

Gingerly, he stood up and walked over to where Elizabeth lay. It was almost harder to look at his daughter, his own flesh and blood; dead. Her face was horribly scratched, a huge gash on her right cheek. Her lip had been bleeding and it was very large. He looked down at her arm. It was bent in an unnatural way. It must have been broken. Ron looked over at the empty bed and walked over, gently setting Maggie down. He turned around and leaned over his daughter, his tears soaking the bedclothes. It was over, his life was over. 

He was in the room for over an hour, sitting on the floor with Maggie in his arms, looking at his dead daughter and his dead wife. Finally the doctors came in and ushered him out of the hospital. Zombie-like, he summoned the Knight Bus and gave them his address. They took him there straight away, seeing how distraught he was. Maggie was still crying. Ron couldn’t think enough to try to stop her. 

Finally he was home. Maggie had eventually calmed down on the bus ride home. The swaying motion soothed her and she was soon asleep. Ron numbly laid her down in her crib. 

He ended up in the doorway of the living room, staring at the piano. The piano that Elizabeth had only played a few hours ago and the piano that Hermione had played the night before. Pachelbel’sCanon. It played through his mind as he stared at the piano. He could almost picture Hermione sitting there, the keys moving. But that would never, ever happen again. 


End file.
